Nous Sommes Ici
by OutCold
Summary: Set mainly in the past, flashes of Gibbs and Jenny in Paris, around Valentine's Day. Angst only at the very end. Rated for mild sex reference and one sweary word. :P


**Disclaimer: I don't own Paris, the Sacre Coeur, the Eiffel Tower, a St Germain Cafe, Valentine's Day, a Citroen. Oh, or NCIS.**

**A/N: I spent Valentine's Day in Paris. How much more cliched do you get? I was with my mum though. :P **

**A/N2: Tiva4evaxxx says that since I was in Paris I have to write a Jibbs oneshot. So here you go. It wasn't originally going to be V-day-ey, but oneshots tend to go where they want anyway.**

**A/N3: Nous sommes ici means "we are here" (bad grammar too) and is actual graffiti that I saw on the Sacre Coeur. It made me laugh. It wasn't originally going to be the title, but as I wrote this I realised it worked quite well. **

* * *

_If death and time are stronger_

_A love may yet be strong;_

_The world will last for longer,_

_But this will last for long._

(Strong Love, from Additional Poems, No IV, printed in A.E.H. by A. E. Houseman)

* * *

_Nous sommes ici, _he read with amusement. _Different culture my ass. _He was broken out of his in depth reading of graffiti by Jenny whirling around, red curls flying, green eyes sparkling. "It's so amazing," she said, wonder filling her voice. It was so different from the Jenny he'd seen day in, day out at work. As much as he loved the hardass agent – and he did - there was something… endearing about the way this city appeared to have completely disarmed her.

"It's pretty nice," he admitted.

Her mouth fell open in faux-shock. "Jethro," she scolded. "This is the _Sacré-Coeur _we're talking about. You are not nearly excited enough. Look at the view."

Grudgingly, he allowed himself to be driven to the front of the metre wide balcony. White pillars and domes framed an image of Paris, spread out in front of them. The Eiffel Tower in the distance rose above all other buildings. "Like I said, pretty nice."

She slid her arm through his, leaning her head on his shoulder as she looked out. He was surprised by the affectionate gesture, but wound his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Pretty damn nice, Jethro," she whispered.

-----

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he groaned, again.

Jenny sighed. "It's the Eiffel Tower," she said dryly, shoving him forward as the queue advanced.

"It's so trite."

She stopped suddenly, forcing him around to face her. "Leroy. Jethro. Gibbs. You have to do this. And one day, you will thank me for it. So shuddup and do as you're told." Surprisingly, he did. Jenny laughed to herself at his almost childish sulking, he didn't say a word up the three lifts to the top. "Hey boss, even you have to admit it's an amazing structure."

He grinned slightly at how she knew exactly what he was thinking, but something else came to him. "I'm hardly your boss anymore, Jen," he said softly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, burrowing her face into his chest. The admission from him meant more than she could say. "I love you, Jethro," she whispered. The words rolled off her tongue before she could check them as she should have. He stiffened for a second.

"That'll be the day," he laughed as he relaxed, pulling her closer into him. The response that could have been a bitter blow was somehow softened, until she understood. If the Eiffel Tower was trite, then who could guess how he would feel about saying 'I love you too'. A gentle wind blew through the iron bars.

------

"Have we done enough sightseeing for you, Jen?" he laughed as they finally returned to their small Parisian residence.

She collapsed onto the couch, tugging at a slightly heeled boot. "If I walk another step, I think I may collapse," she said, smiling broadly. He sat next to her, and with rare tenderness removed the second boot.

"It'd kill you to invest in sneakers?" he asked, breaking the moment.

She sat, gently pushing her lips to his and wrapping her legs around his waist. "Jethro, you simply can't be Parisian in _sneakers_."

"Mmmhmm," he replied, distracted from the conversation as he turned to lift her from her seat. She started in shock, but he just quietly laughed and whispered in her ear. "I'd rather be in the bedroom, and if you can't walk another step…"

-----

The small St Germain café was overcrowded, but nice, and they enjoyed their coffee in silence, focused on one of their targets, a man sitting three tables down from them.

"I wish he'd take the glasses off," Jenny murmured.

"Turning around would be a start," Gibbs replied.

The man rose from his seat and walked out of the café. Gibbs tapped his fingers gently against the table. One… two… three… four… five. They also stood, having pre-paid in preparation for this. They traced him through the side-streets of Paris, and noted the eventual address he ended up in,

"Told you a car would be pointless," said Jenny with a smug smirk.

"Forgive me for wanting to get a car off Morrow," Gibbs darkly responded.

She laughed. "I didn't even know people _could _be addicted to driving."

Jenny guided him through the streets as though she had lived in Paris all her life, completely comfortable in her surroundings. He marvelled at her ability to fit in everywhere she went. She had gained the respect of NCIS D.C. with remarkable speed. She had the people skills he didn't have the patience to master, and like a chameleon she relaxed into every environment she was thrown at. And so, mutely, he allowed himself to be directed through the French city. She slid her pale hand into his. "Wake up, Jethro." He blinked, surprised that he'd allowed himself to drift off that way. They were outside the house… and so was a silver Citroen. His mouth fell open slightly, and he glanced over at Jenny, who had a grin spreading across her face. "Happy Valentine's Day."

His stunned expression turned to one of confusion. "It's that today?" Jenny collapsed, shoulders shaking silently. He worried that she might be upset, but a second glance showed that she was in hysterics.

"Yes, Jethro, but the car is really just to get you to stop being so grouchy." She held out the keys. "A contact said he could give me a hand."

"He?"

She snatched back the key before he could take it. "You know, Valentine's doesn't give you an excuse to be jealous."

He crossed his arms. "Fine. Car keys."

She smiled evilly. "Later."

"Je-en," he whined.

The smile turned to coy as she slipped inside the door. He stood for a moment, shaking his head. She may fit in anywhere but he definitely liked her best when it was just them.

"I love you, Jen," he told the space where she had been.

-------

_Rain poured down. It seemed appropriate. The headstone was granite, carved carefully, her name embossed upon it in gold. She may not have had a blood family left, but he knew his team made an effort to visit, bringing flowers and keeping it looking well-loved. He appreciated it, as he found it so hard to visit himself. A model of the Eiffel Tower sat at one side. DiNozzo. Cheeky sonofabitch. He laid the keyring next to the model. On it hung a car. Cars had come to symbolise this for him, the 14__th__ of February. Shannon and he had gone out to dinner on Valentine's Day, for the sake of doing something, before Kelly was born, but when she was there they found they'd rather be at home as a family. With his other wives it had been flowers and chocolates. At least he had never gave or been given a teddy bear. So that car had been the only real Valentine's gift he ever received, and the best one he could have thought of. _Only Jenny_, he smiled. _

_Tears spilled down his cheeks and he knelt in front of the grave, water from the wet grass seeping into his already soaked trousers. "I still love you," he whispered to the stone._

* * *

**And of course it was going to get depressing, I wrote it. The poem was in a book called Other Men's Flowers, a collection of poetry selected by Lord Wavell. It was given to me by someone I love very much, who shares my love of poetry (or since she's 90, maybe I share hers), and since I was musing on a Jibbs oneshot at the time, it seemed to fit.**


End file.
